


The First Step

by Pininfarina



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 01:28:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10232642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pininfarina/pseuds/Pininfarina
Summary: Alphonse has a hard time recovering after the Promised Day. Lieutenant Hawkeye steps in to help.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I thought the fandom needed more Parental!RizAl, so here I am. If you squint there's some Parental!RoyAl in there too. Enjoy!

Morning dawned bright and cold, and Alphonse was in pain. Despite the early hour and years of sleeplessness without his body, Al was wide awake, his chest tight as he rode another wave of the muscle spasms that regularly plagued his delicate frame. He wheezed out a meager cough, his arms shaking as he attempted to prop himself up on his pillows. When he managed to wriggle his way into a sitting position, he gazed out the window and watched the sun rise over the courtyard.

The Promised Day had come and gone, and Al was the only one left in Central Hospital, save for Jean Havoc in the next room. From time to time he could hear familiar voices through the wall; just last night he heard the Colonel and what sounded like all of his closest subordinates. They were raucous and cheerful, most likely celebrating Havoc’s newfound ability to stand up on his own. Al wished he could join them or even get out of bed, but he was stuck alone until Ed and Winry returned the next day, his only company the occasional nurses checking his vitals.

Al tensed as another wave of tremors racked his body, his legs and feet cramping up until he whimpered from the pain. He reached down to rub his seizing muscles, tired fingers weakly grasping at the sheets. His stomach hitched horribly at the exertion and a wave of nausea forced bile into the back of his throat. He retched and then, unable to move fast enough to rescue his dignity, vomited on himself. The sick was hot and thick, mostly stomach acid, and it seeped through his shirt and the sheets, wetting his quivering legs.

Al coughed, hacking up acidic bits of vomit and spitting them unceremoniously onto the bed as his nose and eyes streamed. Through his fit he heard two voices outside the door, then the sound of the hinges creaking; he scrubbed the tears from his eyes only to find himself looking at Lieutenant Hawkeye. Her eyes were wide, brow furrowed and mouth agape, a picture of surprise and pity that Al never wanted directed at him again. She recovered quickly, smoothing over her expression with professional ease, though the pinch between her brows remained pronounced. After muttering something over her shoulder she slipped into the room and closed the door softly.

“Alphonse, are you okay? I heard you coughing from the other room so I came to check on you,” she said, though she could plainly see the question was a pointless one, as Al was sitting in a pool of his own sick. “That was the Colonel outside the room; he was worried too but I didn’t think you needed the extra company,” she added.

Striding forward, Hawkeye shucked her uniform coat onto the chair Ed had occupied the night before and grabbed a shallow dish from the counter along with Al's water glass before placing a firm hand on his bony back and lifting the straw to his lips. Al rinsed his mouth and spit into the tub she held to his chin, then leaned back onto the Lieutenant's solid arm for support. She wavered for a moment before tensing to accommodate his slight weight, and held up the water glass again.

“What happened,” she asked when he had swallowed his next sip, placing the empty cup on his rolling table. Her warm eyes were full of concern as she swept hair off his forehead and tucked it behind his ear.

“I had muscle spasms and when I sat up to massage them it made my stomach turn,” he explained. To her confused look he added, “I've been getting them. I think it's because my body didn't move or get nutrients when it was in the portal. I can't eat much without getting sick, so they have to do it slowly. It's called refeeding. They said I can start physical therapy today if I can eat the bigger meal without puking.” Al's face fell then as he looked down at the vomit covering his bed. “They're not going to let me if they see this,” he lamented.

Lieutenant Hawkeye's eyes swept across the room, probing. A small, uncharacteristically mischievous smile crept across her face. “Well, let's make sure they don't see it, then,” she declared.

She piled up his pillows before lowering him down and heading back to the counter from where she'd taken the plastic dish. Above the counter was a cabinet labeled “linens.” She opened the door and uttered a soft _aha_ as she collected a fresh set of bedsheets and a new shirt and trousers into her arms.

Crossing the room again, she dropped the sheets atop her military jacket, the stark white swallowing regal blue. She slung the clean clothing over her shoulder and washed the dish Al had spit into before filling it with warm water and setting it on the rolling table.

“Alphonse, I'm going to help you clean up if that's okay with you. I'd have a male soldier assist you but I'm the only one guarding Havoc right now while the Colonel is visiting him. Is that alright?” Al grappled with his modesty for scarcely a moment before deciding he'd rather have this embarrassing process done by the gentle Lieutenant than by a nurse he didn't know, and he wanted to get on his feet as soon as possible. So with a smile and a firm nod, he leaned forward and let Hawkeye untie the strings of his shirt.

The vomit was cold in Al's lap by the time Lieutenant Hawkeye lifted the sheet and balled it up, trapping his shame in the center and dropping it on the floor. Shirtless and sheetless, Al shivered as she pulled his trousers off and began wiping his legs and chest with cloth dipped in water from the dish. He covered his privates with one hand and, much to his relief, Hawkeye began talking while she worked.

“Thankfully you didn't get anything on the bottom sheet, so I won't have to move you much.” She paused for a moment. “I hear Ed and Winry are planning on moving back to Resembool when you're recovered enough to walk?”

Al nodded. “Yeah we're going to live with Granny. Ed can't do alchemy anymore so he's going to resign from the State Alchemists. He's actually bringing his paperwork to the Colonel today.” Al looked down at his emaciated legs, damp from the wash cloth, and felt a surge of guilt.

“Brother gave up alchemy for me. He won't say it, but he loved being in the military. I know he acts like a jerk to the Colonel but he loves you two, and the whole team. I don't know what he's going to do now that he can't do alchemy.”

Hawkeye pulled the fresh trousers from her shoulder and guided Al's feet into them. He put his free arm around her neck and she lifted him slightly to slide the fabric up over his narrow hips. The soft cotton did little to restore his stolen dignity; Al knew the Lieutenant wasn't judging him for being helpless, but he couldn't stop the burn of humiliation simmering in his gut.

“I'm sure Ed will find something to keep him busy. He's not one to sit still,” she replied gently.

Tears sprang unbidden to Al's eyes and he wiped them with his knuckles. “He gave up alchemy to get my body back. I could never repay him for that. I feel so bad, Lieutenant.”

“Please Alphonse, you can call me Riza,” she said with a smile, and continued, “And you shouldn't worry yourself about your brother. Ed knew what he was doing when he went into that portal. He had the biggest smile on his face.” She paused in adjusting his shirt to lean back and look him in the eye. “I've never seen him look happier than when he returned with you in his arms.” She leaned forward once more and tied his top closed, then turned to pull the sheets from the chair. Her jacket slipped onto the floor.

“Really, Al. I don't think Edward has any regrets about giving up alchemy to get your body back.” She splayed the sheet across the bed, the corners flapping as the fabric sank across the mattress.

Al fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, still uncertain. Seeing his hesitation, Hawkeye sat in the chair and leant her elbows on the bed. In a rare moment of physical affection, she took his hand in her own and rubbed her thumb across his palm. Her skin was warm and soft against his.

“Al, your brother didn't want anyone else to get hurt. Did you know that Ling offered him a philosopher's stone, or that your father offered himself as the toll for your body?” Al shook his head and she continued, “Edward refuses to let anyone else pay for his mistakes. He's willing to make sacrifices to set things right, and it's not like him to dwell on what he's lost. He's always looking to the future, and you should too. That's how you'll move forward.” She smiled bracingly at him, and he returned it with a grin.

“You're right. I should be focusing on getting strong instead of feeling guilty. It's in the past now. All I can do is recover my strength, so that's what I'll do. Thanks Lieu-err, Riza, and thank you for helping me get cleaned up. I really want to start physical therapy today.”

“It's no trouble, Al. I know you want to get on your feet as soon as you can. You’ve never been one to sit around, so this must be driving you crazy.” She cocked her head at him. “Why don't I put your hair back for you so it's not in your face during your PT? I should have a clip in my jacket pocket still,” she mused as she ran an unconscious hand through her freshly cut hair.

“Oh yeah! I like your hair. It's just like when we first met,” Al exclaimed. After a beat he added guiltily, “It must have been quite an awful sight, huh?”

Hawkeye chuckled softly as she retrieved her uniform and fished a clip from the breast pocket. She shook the garment out and draped it across the back of the chair, her new medals clinking loudly. “It was certainly something. I've seen a lot of things but I never expected an animated suit of armor,” she said as she moved to gather Al's hair up. “Are you going to keep it long,” she queried, putting the clip in her mouth to free her hands.

“Nah, I'll get it cut before we go back to Resembool. You wouldn't happen to know a good barber, would you?”

Riza mumbled through the clip, “Sure, I can take you when you get out of here.” She twisted his hair and fastened it just like her old style. “He did my haircut just yesterday; he wouldn't shut up about the Promised Day stuff. I'm sure he'd love to meet an Elric brother,” she laughed.

“Wow, really? What was he saying?”

“Oh, just the usual drivel. The civilians don't know much. But they all know the Elric brothers helped stop the coup. You two will go down in the history books for your alchemy skills.” After a pause she teased, “and your stunning good looks.” Al blushed slightly and laughed, as Hawkeye dumped the water and washed her hands.

When she finished cleaning up, she straightened and shrugged into her uniform jacket. Turning back to Al she asked, “Is there anything else you need before I get back to my post?”

Al pointed at the tangle of dirty laundry on the floor. “Can you take those?”

“Of course. I'll have the Colonel burn them,” she replied swiftly, gathering the soiled pile and sweeping towards the door. She turned on her heel at the threshold and saluted Al briefly. “If I don't see you again before you return to Resembool, then have a safe trip. Good luck with your recovery.” She smiled warmly as she let her hand drop, and then she was gone.

Al heard the door to Havoc's room open then close and a moment later the rumble of the Colonel's voice came faintly through the wall. All Alphonse heard was, “...happened?” The Lieutenant's soft reply was lost to the hospital walls.

Al shifted in his fresh clothes and checked the clock on his bedside table. 0625 stared back at him. He settled into his pillows, determined to sleep until the 0700 nurses’ rounds. When his brother came later in the day, he decided, they would talk about their plans beyond Resembool.

As he drifted off, Al thought of Winry’s apple pie and Mrs. Hughes’s quiche, and he smiled to himself.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos/comments if you liked it! Any comments are appreciated! Thanks for reading~


End file.
